


To Whom It May Concern

by 2rus



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, M/M, cliche movie beginnings and endings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-06
Updated: 2013-09-06
Packaged: 2017-12-25 20:34:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/957332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2rus/pseuds/2rus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe, just maybe, Alfred completely hated mornings and his neighbors Russian cat and the fact that it was STILL not summer, but there was nothing a steamy cup of hot chocolate and the thoughts of random strangers could not fix while he waited for the bus to arrive. OneShot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Whom It May Concern

**Author's Note:**

> The story simply came out of nowhere while listening to the song by Civil Wars "To Whom It May Concern" ( http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L0GTdbffrNo ) and it is actually the song Alfred is listening to at the end where he see's Arthur by the chalk board. Also the setting might or might not be Toronto, but hey who cares, it's cold, it's a giant city and they actually have one coffee shop with a giant chalk board.
> 
> A big thank you to my friend arturd-kirklard on tumblr for beta reading this at 2am, she's great = u =

The cold breeze ran through the blond's body like a shock of cold water once he stepped outside from his very cozy apartment. Maybe it was the fact that it was 6:25am, or that it was a Wednesday morning; but there was something about _that_ morning and the cold breeze that acompanied it that seem just a tad bit more bitter and harsher than usual. None the less, the American zipped up his jacket a little more, reveling in the lie that maybe- _just_ maybe if he had it zipped up all the way that it would keep the coldness out. He quickly started on his walk, his messenger’s bag softly slapping against the side of his leg as it bounced around with every hurried step, his hands digging a little deeper in his pockets as he sought out the warmth radiating from his still sleepy body; his glasses fogging up every time his breath would come out in streams of fog.

It was terribly stupid how even though he was in his Junior year of college he still had to wake up early for classes. Then again, it could be blamed on him for taking such a long time to sign up for Media Studies... but it was so much easier to blame others, so he did. He continued on his way, his steps maybe a little more hurried than before- and no, it was not because the subway service would start in 4 minutes, it was because of the damn weather and the fact that he hated cold mornings as much as he hated his stupid neighbor and his fucking Russian cat. Finally the blond reached the entrance of the under-ground transportation, his heart melting a little at the promise of warmth and the bitter smell of urine and old oil stains on the tracks. Taking two steps at once he reached the bottom, his heart beating a little more awake and his jacket becoming just a little bit too hot to have on. Of course he didn’t take it off, though, because as much as he loved the warm atmosphere of the underground world, he knew that in less than 5 stops he had to go back upstairs to the freezing, awakening city.

He waited for a few minutes and then the great grey snake slid through the old tracks and came to a shrilling stop. Luckily, one set of doors stopped right in front of him, so once they swooshed open he was one of the first ones in- and that meant he could take a seat near the heating racks. Accommodating himself in the ugly, dirty-red seat, the blond took out his iPhone and quickly searched through his playlists until he landed on one of his old favorites, which if you thought about it, was kind of childish of him to have- but he didn’t give a damn and so he had it and loved it. He quickly popped the ear-jacks in and let the soft hum of guitar surround his ears, overtaking the sounds of sleepy, grouchy people getting on and off the train and the robotic voice that announced every departure and arrival to stations. He loved this playlist because it was soft. It was completely different from the over-played pop songs and maybe, just maybe, it reminded him of a certain movie soundtrack. And no, it was not because he liked to think his life was a movie, pfff, who would think that? Not him, not at all!

…

Well, maybe a little, but who cared? It was _his_ life and _his_ dreams and _his_ crazy antics, so he could pretend it was his movie soundtrack if he damn well wanted to. He loved listening to it, especially during those times where he had a terrible morning or a terrible evening or sometimes both. Music in general calmed his nerves, but his special soundtrack completely brightened his life and calmed him to a point where rational thinking- and not just jumping in to decisions- was possible. Three more stops and a change of song and Alfred- as that was the name of our beloved protagonist- found himself jumping out of his seat and barely reaching the doors before they closed on him. A bit out of breath the blond continued on his journey, quickly jumping up the stairs and adjusting to the stiff, coffee-induced, fast pace of those walking by. It was too early and the working world awaited them.

Once out of the station Alfred took a left towards where the bus stop was and kept walking, straight towards the small coffee shop where he would spend his last thirty minutes of free time before college started. He would listen to his soundtrack and nurture a cup of sweet hot chocolate. It was a routine, a little cliché for a college student, but still a routine that he had grown so used to that whenever he didn’t have the time for it, he would feel a little out of wack for the rest of the day. It was intriguing how it could change his entire view of the day, but he would rather not think too much about it and instead focus on the promise of sugar and warmness that came from the liquid bliss in a cup.  

Pushing open the wooden door a little too fast, Alfred finally found himself inside the warm, welcoming atmosphere of the small coffee shop that had been his savior for the months of October to March. He didn't know how he would have survived over the winter if the little shop didn’t exist. Taking a deep breath, the blond smiled at the familiar taste in atmosphere and softly exhaled as he relaxed into the place he had considered a second home, before walking to the counter and smiling brightly at the little blonde cashier whose name was Bella. She had been his friend since he found the place.

Bella smiled equally as bright and nodded before yelling his order back to the brown haired barista who would only whistle in acknowledgment and quickly start to work on Alfred’s order. Alfred couldn’t help but chuckle at that; even after two years of frequenting here, he still hadn't gotten over the fact that these two worked like that. He handed over a five and patiently waiting for his change. Once he was given it he took off to the side where a giant chalk board was placed. This was one of the things that made the coffee shop different and appealing to Alfred. It had this board that was free for public use; you could write just about anything on it. Curse words, poems, stories, drawings, anything you could think of and Alfred loved it. It was odd, but he saw it as an opportunity to read people, to get to know strangers in the most intimate way- that wasn't illigal, that is.

A tap on the back distracted him from his reading to be greeted with a friendly smile and a cup of steamy hot chocolate. The blond blessed every god in existence for the kind soul who gave him his order and slowly turned back to the board, taking a delighted sip of the creamy and slightly foamy liquid. His taste buds sang in harmony and bliss, a warm sensation quickly spread through his body as if his blood had somehow already absorbed all the heat it needed to turn from a frozen river to its usual lively self, bringing a shy blush to his pale cheeks and a rosy color to his cold nose.  He gave himself a moment to appreciate the feeling before opening much brighter and happier blue eyes that quickly darted to where he left off. It was very odd how he would always walk in and read the board, but never actually wrote anything on it. He wasn't sure why, but he never felt the urge to write anything. Being able to observe was more than enough for him. He reached one of the corners on the board, a very small but pretty handwriting was hidden by the bigger more flamboyant styles, and it was a small inquiry, a simple,

“To whom it may concern,

I love you, though I haven’t met you. How are you?“

There was nothing else, not an answer written by whoever wrote it or someone else. It piqued his interest, but he still didn’t write anything. Alfred continue his reading, his eyes scanning over too long stories and the usual “fuck you’s” to search for the small poems and words that would usually trigger something within him, but for some reason he couldn’t stop thinking of the little question. He took the last few sips of his chocolate, his finger tapping against the almost empty cup and his eyes shifting to the clock on top of the counter. It was almost time to leave and his mind kept going back to the question- it was a Wednesday morning and his neighbors cat had woken him up every 15 minutes last night and he had nothing to loose. In the end he wasn't sure what made him do it, but Alfred grabbed a blue chalk and quickly scribbled his answer before placing his cup down on a random table and running out-because dammit,he was late to the stop.

“To whoever you arehow can you love me if you haven’t met me? I normally hate mornings but you’ve brightened my day. How are you, too?”

___

The next day, Alfred's class started just a little later than usual and so his morning was a tad brighter. Also the fact that his neighbor lost his cat might also be one of the reasons why his day had started off so much better, but no one needed to know that. Cheerfully whistling a random tune, the blond entered the coffee shop once again, ordering the same chocolate and quickly walking towards the wall, his eyes subconsciously landing on where he had left his response- only to find something else written! He quickly approached, noticing for the first time that the other response was written in green. He was oddly interested in that- why green of all the other colors? Nevertheless, Alfred wrote his own response with blue chalk and a small smile on his lips before walking to a table and enjoying his drink.

Somehow, he’d started a new routine. This time it involved a chat with a stranger on a wall; completely weird, stupid, moronic and childish, but yet he enjoyed it and so he continued doing it. Months passed and their conversations got longer and longer, their shades blue and green changing over time and yet they never stopped talking.

On one particular day where Alfred was let out of classes earlier than usual, he made his way back to the coffee shop, thinking about getting a cappuccino instead of hot chocolate since the day had warmed up some. And maybe, just maybe- he was checking out the board to see if the person had responded yet.  Before arriving he had put on his favorite playlist, a soft melodic rhythm of classic guitar and the harmonies of the two singers floating out his ear buds and into his brain to relax him and make him smile. Once he entered the coffee shop and got his order, he turned to the board- only to stop as he saw someone at his corner reading, and smiling softly at what Alfred had said. The guy, a dirty blond male with a green sweater and dark brown pants, laughed softly at some joke Alfred had written. For Alfred it happened in slow motion- the man wrote down a reply in the same style with another green tone and a very endearing smile on his lips.

Suddenly the music became much louder than it actually was, the words resonating in his ears and for a moment he thought of the moment in movies where the protagonist finds his love interest and it made Alfred’s heart soar and think that maybe those moments _did_ exist in reality- and it was all thanks to his favorite playlist that it became the perfect moment it was.

As he saw the other's chalk slow down Alfred quickly grabbed his blue chalk, eyes already scanning through the reply, softly chuckling at the funny parts. His heart swelled up to the point where it felt as if it was going to explode; feelings of love and satisfaction and longing he had for the cute stranger he’d met on a chalk board overwhelming him. Before the green chalk left the board the blue chalked appeared and green eyes quickly locked in on the color as it started to write out its latest response.

“Dear whoever you might be,

Why not turn to the side and finally introduce yourself? I’m Alfred, and I think I'm in love with you.”

And so green eyes slowly meet with blue, and the other man pulled his ear-buds out with a shy smile and a faint blush. When their eyes met, as cliché as ever, snow started to fall- but who the fuck cared? Because Alfred F. Jones just had the best experience of his entire life and he really hoped his movie would continue from here into a marvelous action/adventure romance, multi-milliion dollar trillogy.

“My dearest Alfred, my name's Arthur. It's nice to finally meet you,” the low, smooth accented voice of the green chalk responded, and Alfred's heart skipped a beat before restarting faster than ever; and Alfred knew that his movie was just getting to the good part.


End file.
